Hellsing: He Followed Me Home
by NaiOokamiSohma
Summary: 【Adopted from TheBlackSeaReaper/being rewritten/New Summary】 "There's no one who can live their whole life being completely uncorrupted." Belladonna Lily Potter didn't know that shadows could be so long, that the world can be so strange, so much darker, and so much madder. And so. Much. Better. (Alucard x Fem!Harry)
1. Chapter 1

There was movement in the dark hallway, something slithering towards the stairs and along the dark corridor. It drew nearer towards a door with a cat flap and locks, the undulating body cutting a wide, curving track through the open passage, and in seconds, the tip of its pointed tail had vanished in the gap.

The dark and unnatural body stood and was now level with the ceiling, and then, incredibly, miraculously, at the very head, thin and gleaming eyes blinked into existence. They passed over the small room before landing on a lump on the bed, following the gentle breathing that moved the covers up and down. The dark body twisted around in the air, flowing in dark unnatural colours that did not fade even against the dim light filtering through the curtains. In fact it seemed to thicken, shadows curling tighter as it passed over the slender body sleeping away restlessly; fingers twitching and body jerking suddenly. The eyes roamed over once before thin and long fingers peeled away from the body of darkness, reaching out, closer and closer...

¤ **Ω** ¤

Belladonna Potter lay flat on her back, breathing hard as though she had been running. She had awoken suddenly with her hands scrambling into the air, her body jolting awake with a start. The old scar on her forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning as though someone had just pressed white-hot wire to her skin.

She sat up, her left hand pressed to her scar, the other pulling back the covers. She looked about her bedroom, lit by a faint misty glow orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window. Belladonna ran her fingers over the scar again. It was still painful, and especially stung when her brows furrowed, pulling at the skin unconsciously. She turned on the lamp beside her, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened the wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny girl of fourteen looked back at her, her bright green eyes puzzled under untidy wild curls of black hair that spun down her back. She examined the lightning bolt scar of her reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.

Belladonna tried to recall what she had been dreaming about before she had awoken. But even as she concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember...

The dim picture of a darkened room seemed to fuzz halfway through... though she recalled there had been a snake on a hearth rug... a small man... and a cold, high voice... Belladonna felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into her stomach even as she closed her eyes tightly and tried to remember what had awoken her from the dream. There was something sad, maybe? Or frightening... there had been a feeling, a spasm of horror that had jolted her, or perhaps that was the pain of her scar?

Who was the owner of the cold, high voice? And who had been the other, the old man? For there had definitely been an old man; Belladonna had watched him fall to the ground... It was all becoming confusing. Belladonna put her face into her hands, blocking out her bedroom, trying to hold onto the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to hold water into her cupped hands; the details were trickling away, fuzzy as they had been.

There had been talk of someone being killed, though she could not remember the name... and then... and then... and then what? She had awoken, a funny prickling racing up her neck that had made Belladonna feel she was being watched. It hadn't just been the dream but the sense rather than hearing it: someone or something had been standing in the narrow gap between the bed and the wardrobe to the left of the door.

Belladonna flung her head back, eyes flicking open, and she stared around her bedroom as though expecting something unusual. Aside from the large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of her bed, revealing a cauldron, a broomstick, black robes, and assorted spellbooks; rolls of parchment littering the part of her desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which her snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched; on the floor beside her bed a book laid open, having been reading it before she had fallen asleep last night, pictures in the book were moving. Nothing else aside from these things were unusual, which was extraordinary in and of itself.

Belladonna walked over to pick up the book, catching the sight of a wizard scoring a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot high hoop, and snapped it shut. Even Quidditch – as freeing as it could be, imagining to be on her broom in the highest point in the air – couldn't distract her. She placed _Flying with the Cannons_ on her bedside table, crossed to the window, and drew back the curtains to survey the street below.

Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains closed. As far as Belladonna could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living a creature in sight, not even a cat. And yet... and yet... Belladonna went restlessly back to the bed and sat down on it, running a finger over her scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered her; Belladonna was no stranger to pain and injury. She had lost all the bones from her right arm once and had them painfully regrown in a night. The same arm that had been pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterward.

Had it really been only last year that Belladonna had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick? She was used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a knack for attracting trouble. But no, this wasn't what was bothering her. It was the fact the last time her scar had hurt, it had been because Voldemort had been close by... but he couldn't be here, now. The idea of Voldemort lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible...

Belladonna listened closely to the silence around her. What was she expecting? To hear the creak of a stair or the swish of a cloak? And then she jumped suddenly as she heard her cousin Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room. Belladonna scowled and shook herself; she was being stupid. There was no one in the house with her except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and painless.

Asleep was the way she liked the Dursleys best; it wasn't as though they were ever any help to her awake. They hated and despised magic in any form, which meant that if she were to mention the unnaturalness of her dream and the pain of her scar, they'd more than likely throw some tantrum and make Belladonna feel even more welcome than dry rot. Which was none.

But what were she to do? There was still a fortnight to go before she went back to school at the end of the summer. She looked helplessly towards the birthday cards her two best friends had sent at the end of July. She would not see them until then, but even as she thought of what to say about her scar hurting to them, she could hear the voice of Hermione Granger filling her head in a shrill and panicked flitter.

 _"Your scar? Donna, that's really serious... write to Professor Dumbledore! And I'll go check_ Common Magical Ailments and Afflictions _... Maybe there's something in there about curse scars..."_

Yes, that would be Hermione's advice, to see the headmaster while she consulted a book. Belladonna stared out of the window at the inky blue-black sky. She very much doubted a book could help her now, still within the confines of a magicless neighborhood and hours away from Diagon Alley. Belladonna had also no idea where the headmaster went during the summer holidays. She amused herself for a moment, picturing the headmaster, with his long silver beard, full length wizards robes, and pointed hat, stretched on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose.

Well, wherever the headmaster could be she doubted that Hedwig wouldn't be able to find the man. She had yet to meet an owl that had not delivered, even without an address. But whatever would she write?

 _Dear Headmaster, sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning because of a dream I don't remember. Yours sincerely, Belladonna Potter._

Even inside her head she sounded stupid.

Belladonna took a moment to imagine her other best friend, Ron Weasley's reaction, and in a moment Ron's red hair and long-nosed, freckled face, seemed to swim before Belladonna, wearing a bemused expression.

 _"Your scar hurt? But... but You-know-Who can't be near now, can he? I mean... you'd know, wouldn't you? He'd be trying to do you in again, wouldn't he? I dunno, Donna, maybe curse scars always twinge a bit... I'll ask Dad..."_

As qualified a fully wizard Mr. Weasley was, working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic, he didn't have any particular expertise in the matter of curses, as far as Belladonna knew. In any case no matter what way the conversation would begin, Ron would somehow end up asking his parents for answers. And it unsettled Belladonna to think that the Weasley's would know that she was getting jumpy over a few moments' of pain. Mrs. Weasley would fuss worse than Hermione, and Fred and George, Ron's sixteen year old twin brothers, might think Belladonna was losing her nerve.

Belladonna loved that family and while she continued to hope that eventually she'd be invited to stay with them any time now, she didn't want any visit to be punctuated with anxious inquiries about her scar. Belladonna kneaded her forehead with her knuckles. What she really wanted, and she somehow felt ashamed admitting the idea, was the presence of an actual _parent_ : an adult wizard whose advice she could ask without feeling stupid, someone who cared about her, who had experience with Dark Magic...

And then the solution came to her. It was so simple, and so obvious, that she couldn't believe it had taken so long – _Sirius_.

Belladonna leapt up from the bed, hurried across the room, and sat down at her desk; she pulled a piece of parchment towards her, loaded her eagle-feather quill with ink and wrote, _Dear Sirius_ , then paused wondering how best to phrase the problem, still marveling at the fact she hadn't thought of Sirius right away. But it wasn't that surprising – after all, she had only found out that Sirius was her godfather two months ago.

It seemed silly to have forgotten even if he hadn't been in her life until then – the debacle of Third Year should have lingered though. Sirius had been in Azkaban, the terrifying wizard jail guarded by cloaked, sightless, soul sucking fiends named Dementors that had come searching for Sirius at Hogwarts when he had escaped. Yet Sirius had been innocent – the murders for which he had been convicted had been committed by Wormtail, Voldemort's supporter, whim nearly everybody now believed dead. Belladonna, Ron, and Hermione knew otherwise however; they had come face-to-face with Wormtail only the previous year, though only the Headmaster had believed the story.

Still that information hadn't been enough, for Wormtail had escaped during the turnabout situation of the current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor having turned into a werewolf before they could take the guilty party to the Ministry of Magic, and Sirius had had to flee for his life. Belladonna had helped Sirius escape on the back of a hippogriff called Buckbeak, and since then, Sirius had been on the run.

It was the most exhilarating school year she had had, and yet Belladonna had not thought of her godfather first, and only thought of Sirius at the very end of her thoughts. But as she sat there, rolling ideas through her head, the longer she found herself staring blankly at the parchment, quill twisting between her fingers, and teeth gnawing at her bottom lip.

 _Dear Sirius,_

 _Thanks for your last letter. That bird was enormous; it could hardly get through my window –_

Belladonna quickly cleared that parchment away and tried again.

 _Dear Sirius,_

 _Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday –_

She immediately cleared this crumpled piece of parchment from her desk and frowned, hunching closer to the desk.

 _Dear Sirius,_

 _My summer has been okay, mainly because the Dursley's are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._

 _A weird thing happened this morning, though. My scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts. But I don't reckon he can be anyway near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt afterwar –_ **(1)**

Belladonna discarded this piece mid sentence as well. Nothing was coming out right. Should she put the idea of her dream? It would look too worried though. Yes, thought Belladonna, it would seem as she were searching for reassurances. Perhaps she should ask simply about curse scars; then Sirius would ask why though. Belladonna sat there, staring at the new empty parchment while examples and pre-examples of her letters turned about in her head.

Finally after five minutes of silence she pushed herself away from the desk, throwing the quill that left a splatter of ink on perfectly good parchment. Belladonna stood and paced her room, even as the lamp seemed to grow dimmer as the cold gray light that precedes sunrise slowly crept into the room. Belladonna glanced once at the window before opening her wardrobe once more. Without glancing at her reflection, she started to get dressed before creeping downstairs.

By the time Belladonna had reached the front door, the sun had finally risen, and when sounds of movement could be heard from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's room, Belladonna had already cleared out from the house and halfway down the street. Her sneakers slapped the pavement in a monotonous clicking, hair thrown over one shoulder and hands shoved delicately into her pockets. She eyed the park silently, before turning to the rest of the area around it, trees looming and trimmed around the corners. It didn't seem as wild as it had been when she had returned from Hogwarts. Though she didn't doubt it would become that way again when school began for not just herself but everyone else in the neighborhood.

Sighing, Belladonna made her way towards the swings, dropping hazardously in the seat and almost flipping herself over if not having caught the chain and steadied herself. Her legs kicked out and she sat there, quietly, focus burning away. She was still frustrated and anxious about the scar, though now it was no longer hurting. The cool air brushing away the heat from her skin. But it didn't deter from the fact she hadn't made a choice to speak to anyone, even Sirius, though she knew she should. It seemed silly though, whatever she wanted to say seemed so... so silly when read or said out loud. For all she knew it was just lingering pains, like aftershocks that had staid, only to resurface years later.

And if it were, then she's not just making herself paranoid, but making others worry as well over nothing. Belladonna didn't say anything, though a slight spasm passed through her shoulders. Her nose twisted and she looked over her shoulder, leaning back far over the swing. She blinked as she spotted dark eyes peering at her from the trees. She waited for movement, but those eyes simply continued to stare from close to the ground. Belladonna decided to react. She twisted in her seat and clicked her tongue. The eyes blinked slowly and she tried again, waiting patiently. A pointed black nose peeked out and bristled, before the body of a dog slid out from its hiding.

Belladonna threw her hands out in invitation, palms open as she called to the dog, "Come on..."

The dog cocked its head, and before she could breathe, before she could reel the dog in with another soothing tone, gigantic paws softly pounded the ground. The dog was bounding its way towards her, quiet as a shadow – a strange resemblance to Sirius in dog form: enourmous and jet-black. But unlike the scraggly fur she recalled from her third year, this dog was curly. Very dark and curly that it seemed to peel upwards and twisted tightly, as if it were frayed at the edges.

Belladonna stood, but too late – the dog had made a ginormous leap and the front paws hit her in the chest; she keeled over backwards in a whirl of hair; she felt its hot breath, saw inch-long teeth –

Dazed, feeling as though she had broken ribs, Belladonna tried to stand. The dog's weight though had settled over her, dark eyes flecked with hues of browns staring down upon her. The dog, for all it was thin, was very heavy; wiry muscle digging into her chest and abdomen as it sniffed the air importantly.

" _Rude_ ," she whispered.

Belladonna raised her hand over the dog's head, gently grazing between its brows before gaining more confidence when all the dog did was blink slowly, seemingly content. Belladonna smiled and soon found herself running both hands over the large dog. "Hello... Were you waiting long?" She hummed, nudging under its jaw and beaming when its thick pointed tail flicked back and forth happily.

The dog began to vibrate, a rumble sounding in its throat when her hands skimmed over the dogs chest. She went back and forth, back and forth...

The dog sprang back, gleaming eyes staring her down, but before Belladonna could cover herself, the dog dropped its head over her face and thrashed it all around. Fur slipped over her cheeks, throat, eyes and mouth, causing Belladonna to spit and flounder. "Hey, hey," cried Belladonna. "Calm down, I don't need hair on my tongue, you sneaky thing!" The dog snarled and slumped over, limply sprawling over her, its weight dropping quickly as if the dog had jumped onto her anew.

For a split second, Belladonna wheezed out laughter.

"Bad boy!" She giggled, grasping fur. Belladonna meet open dark eyes, and without warning the dog suddenly ran a long pink tongue over her entire face. Belladonna squealed, pushing the dog back. "Oh, ew, you little sneak! I don't need doggy kisses," but the dog simply made a snuffling sound from the back of its throat, tongue lolling out and tail thumping away, very pleased with itself.

For a split second, Belladonna felt calmer than she had before. A strange euphoria that had her mouth widening in a grin and eyes crinkling with laughter just by the company of the dog. It seemed the solution was to forget about the pain, the dream, and everything in between. She wondered, marveling even, why she hadn't done this in the first place.

Belladonna should have known that this would be the solution. As silly as it were, Belladonna found companionship with this animal. But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising – after all, this dog had become part of her life when she had returned to Privet Drive this summer. In the beginning Belladonna had been wary of the hulking outline in the dark and gleaming eyes of this animal. Yet the dog was innocent – and for one glorious hour, Belladonna had found this out herself. The chance would have been snatched away from her – the dog Belladonna might not have meet if she hadn't had a burst of cabin fever.

It had been doubly hard to return to the Dursleys wondering if the dog would welcome her again. Nevertheless, he had been of some help to Belladonna, even though she waited every day for him to disappear forever. It was due to this dog that Belladonna found some peace at Privet Drive. The Dursleys had never allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Belladonna as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of her powers, had led them to lock her school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every summer prior to this, and then calling the animal control for her new friend. But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Belladonna had a 'dangerous murderer' for a godfather – for Belladonna had conveniently forgotten to tell them Sirius was innocent.

Yes, thought Belladonna, it was very convenient having a proclaimed convict for a godfather.

"You know... I haven't honestly given you a name," Belladonna pursed her lips and eyed the dog. For the longest time she had simply referred to him like that: 'dog', 'him', 'good boy' or some such neutral calling. But it already had been two months. There was no point in keeping that up if she saw him as a close companion and silent confidant. "What do you think? My godfather is named by a dog star, maybe I can do the same? By a star? That seems kinda nice..."

Belladonna thought of her astronomy class. All the stars and planets that the professor had listed off, instinctively and knowingly... "Orion?" She glanced at the dog expectantly. He stared. She wasn't put off by the lack of reaction. "Maybe something else though, I think Sirius' middle name is Orion... or maybe something similar to Professor Lupin, Remus is related to the story of the wolf... so what about the brother? Romulus, I think." Belladonna made a noise in the back of her throat as she twisted her hand in the air. "I think Sirius and Professor Lupin might like it, seeing as you look a bit like Padfoot and then have a name close to the Professor. They're best friends you know? I'm sure they'd like that, well Sirius would, he'd think it funny."

Belladonna had received two letters from Sirius since she had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls, but by large, brightly coloured tropical birds. Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders. Belladonna on the other hand, had like them; they put her in mind of palm trees and white sand. Sirius' letters, which were hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboard under Belladonna's bed, had sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Belladonna to call on him if ever Belladonna needed to. Well, she _had_ needed to but had chosen _not to_...

Even now the thought of sending a letter seemed ridiculous in the calm of her mind. There wasn't anything important to say anymore. This single entity had given her peace in the storm of her awakening and distress. But what would she do when returning to Hogwarts? She would not return until the next summer and Belladonna worried that the dog would have disappeared, having nothing else to keep him here. She doubted that she would be able to lead the dog with her to Hogwarts, as there was a specific list of pets allowed in the school. And she didn't pretend should she bring the dog nonetheless that he would be snapped up just as quickly; Snape, her least favourite Professor being the top of that list.

Then, out of nowhere, something hit Belladonna in the face, sending her head careening back against the pavement. Belladonna groped the air blindly, blinked the daze out of her eyes –

"Did you just hit me with your _tail_?" She hissed. The dog was standing sideways, showing off the swishing tail; thick and slender, whipping backwards and forwards, ready to be used again. And there, at her hip, was the dog, staring at her – panting furiously, eyes gleaming in humor.

"Rude!" The dog bolted and Belladonna made chase.

¤ **Ω** ¤

Afternoon sunshine beamed down on the park of Magnolia Crescent. A solitary girl sat on a bench, sliding her fingers through the fur of a large black dog. The regular laughter of children drifted from over the other side of the park, where a group of children raced, turning in arms to escape a single child without a flag. Then, in the far corner of the park, between the swing sets and the forest rounding about beyond it, dark eyes came from nothing.

The girl unaware of the bodiless eyes that watched her intently, whispered words to the large dog. She then stood, stretched minutely, and then left the dog behind. She disappeared on the corner of Magnolia Road; the dark eyes followed her every move and the dog turned its head, gleaming eyes flashing red and its jaws opening into a wide impossible snarl...

* * *

 **(1)** Italic Letters/ Voices: these parts are derived from the book, to help string a bit along.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun rising over the top of the distant trees made them shine like polished emeralds, and Belladonna held up a hand to shield her eyes from the glow. She felt a grin tugging at the corners of her lips and let it come. Was this going to be a good day? She wanted very much for it to be so. Things hadn't been so well this morning, but finally, after settling away all her worries, Belladonna dared to hope that things were going to be alright.

She blew out a breath, resting a moment on the bench she had taken for herself since the children of Magnolia Crescent and those of the neighboring Privet Drive came into the park. She sat there and listened to the innocent laughter underneath the light, the flap of wings and chirps of birds in the distance, and the soft huff of the dog at her feet.

Belladonna turned slightly and looked down at her companion, the dog moving to rest his head upon her lap, the tip of his pink tongue poking out, not seeming to realize what an adorable image he seemed to create right then. She wondered how she could ever have thought this scruffy dog to be dangerous. Despite his overwhelming size, he was nothing but a mello, and if mischievous, old thing. Belladonna rubbed one of his ears and laughed, seeing the pleased look as he leaned forwards, nudging her palm more insistently every time she pulled back.

She found herself nodding. For a moment, Belladonna thought of their first meeting and how terrified she had been, before. She saw it in her mind's eye; the hulking outline in the dark, the gleaming eyes of a deeper obsidian than even Snape. He was as gaunt as Sirius had been, but not at all labored from trekking past Dementors and the Aurors as her godfather had done the previous year.

The dog suddenly drew himself up and straightened.

"What is Romulus?" She tested out the foreign name, her tongue bumping against the roof of her mouth as she sounded it out. Romulus cocked his head before whining, and with a quick flourish, large paws settled on her lap, a wet nose nudging against her collarbone before glancing upwards to the sky. Belladonna followed the movement, tipping Romulus away from her lap, her smile sliding away when she saw it.

She saw it immediately, what appeared to be a small, gray, feathery tennis ball whizzing excitedly like a loose firecracker across the sky. Belladonna's eyes narrowed and she noticed that it was small enough to fit in the palm of her hand – an owl she realized – one with a letter knotted around one of its legs, and if she didn't miss her mark, heading towards Privet Drive.

Belladonna forced a smile. "I should probably get going." If she was right, then that small owl would crash straight through the windows at the rate it was going, locked or not, and startle the Dursleys. They wouldn't think about it for a moment – just throw the owl out before Belladonna could stop them, and turn the letter into an angry mess of confetti, and then fuss about the abnormality she had brought into their home.

She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw Romulus looking back, threw him a smile. Romulus tipped his head in a shallow nod, and not for the first time Belladonna wondered if there were canine equivalents to Kneazles.

¤ Ω ¤

Belladonna slowed as she approached number four and for a moment she thought she heard the sound like a bird squawking; but she couldn't see any break in, in any of the windows, up and around were all still intact, and she narrowed her eyes.

There was an unsettling quietness emanating from number four. For a brief moment Belladonna's gaze turned to the driveway – where Uncle Vernon's car was still parked in view – and then back to the open windows – Aunt Petunia's scornful glare absent from the glass – and found herself perplexed. She had lived with the Dursleys long enough not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected (however distantly) with people like Belladonna, and thus had expected _something_.

But there was nothing. No glass or stray feathers, nor Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shooting nervous looks through the window, as though expecting to see some of the neighbours with their ears pressed against the glass. There was nothing at all.

She licked her dry lips, and then slowly went inside. In the hall she waited... for anything. But she was shocked to find neither Aunt Petunia nor Uncle Vernon lurking behind a door, hoping to tell off Belladonna. Perhaps the owl had simply been passing over Privet Drive?

Astonished, Belladonna moved towards the stairs, about to take them three at a time when she was suddenly stopped by the gruff and short bark from Uncle Vernon, "You. In the living room. Now."

He sounded quite testy, and she wondered if perhaps the owl _had_ broken inside. _But from where_? Belladonna bewilderedly thought as she followed Uncle Vernon's call from the foyer and into the next room.

"So," he said, sat in his chair and turning to face Belladonna as though he were about to pronounce her under arrest. " _So_."

Belladonna would have dearly loved to remark, 'so what?' But she didn't feel like testing Uncle Vernon's temper, therefore she settled for looking politely puzzled.

"This arrived in the morning," said Uncle Vernon. He brandished a piece of purple writing paper at Belladonna and the sight filled her with a sharp chill. So the owl had —

"A letter. About you. Through the _postman_."

Belladonna's confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon _about_ her? Who did she know who sent letters by postman (and what about the owl)?

Uncle Vernon glared at Belladonna, then looked down at the letter and began to read aloud:

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_

 _We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Donna about my son Ron._

 _As Donna might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports._

 _I do hope you will allow us to take Donna to the match as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the Cup for thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Donna stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see her safely onto the train back to school._

 _It would be best for Donna to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I am not sure he even knows where it is._

 _Hoping to see Donna soon,_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 **Molly Weasley**

 _P.S I do hope we've put enough stamps on._

Uncle Vernon finished reading, put his hand back into his breast pocket, and drew out something else.

"Look at this," he growled.

He held up the envelope in which Mrs. Weasley's letter had come, and Belladonna had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front, into which Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in a minute writing.

"She did put enough stamps on, then," said Belladonna, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley's was a mistake anyone could make.

Her uncle's eyes flashed, then he seemed to think about it for a moment, as if he needed to draw the information up from a great depth. A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon's large purple face. The mustache bristled. Belladonna thought she knew what was going on behind the mustache: a furious battle as two of Uncle Vernon's most fundamental instincts came into conflict.

And then –

"Well, Petunia and I thought about this." Belladonna watched the purple recede blotchily from Uncle Vernon's face, making it look like badly mixed black currant ice cream. "And you can go to this ruddy... this stupid... this World Cup thing. You write and tell these – these _Weasleys_ they're to pick you up, mind. I haven't got time to go dropping you off all over the country. And you can spend the rest of the summer there."

Belladonna's hands bunched into fists and she took a deep breath to swallow back the astonished, _why_ , from her throat. Allowing Belladonna to go would make her happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. Despite the other hand being Belladonna would be out of the way for the rest of the summer. But this... She honestly thought she would have to stop there, mention Sirius, and watch the cogs working under Uncle Vernon's thick, dark, neatly parted hair.

But he had cut off any words she could mention. Agreeing, alongside with a very absent Aunt Petunia, to allow Belladonna to go.

Joy took the place of bewilderment. She turned with a bright 'thank you' behind her shoulder, hurling herself out of the living room door, fighting the urge to jump in the air and whoop. She was going... she was going to the Weasleys', she was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup!

Belladonna took the stairs three at a time, and hurled herself into her bedroom.

The first thing she saw was that Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Belladonna with her enormous amber eyes, and clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed about something. Exactly what was annoying her became apparent almost at once.

"OUCH!" said Belladonna as the familiar, feathery, small, grey tennis ball collided with the side of her head. Belladonna massaged the spot furiously, looking up to see the owl whizzing excitedly around the room. "So you did come here." Belladonna then realized that the owl had dropped the letter at her feet. She bent down, recognized Ron's handwriting, then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily scribbled note.

 _Donna – DAD GOT THE TICKETS – Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's writing to the Muggles to ask you to stay. They might already have the letter, I don't know how fast Muggle post is. Thought I'd send this with Pig anyway._

Belladonna stared at the word 'Pig', then looked up at the tiny owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling. She'd never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe she couldn't read Ron's writing. She went back to the letter:

 _We're coming for you whether the Muggles like it or not, you can't miss the World Cup, only Mum and Dad reckon it's better if we pretend to ask their permission first. If they say yes, send Pig back with your answer pronto, and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday. If they say no, send Pig back pronto and we'll come and get you at five o'clock on Sunday anyway._

 _Hermione's arriving this afternoon. Percy's started work – the Department of International Magical Cooperation. Don't mention anything about Abroad while you're here unless you want the pants bored off you._

 _See you soon –_ **Ron** ( **1** )

"Calm down!" Belladonna hissed as the small owl flew low over her head, twittering madly with what Belladonna could only assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here, I need you to take my answer back!"

The owl fluttered down on top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig looked coldly up at it, as though daring it to try and come any closer.

Belladonna seized her eagle-feather quill once more, grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and then –

To her left were the crumpled parchments she had thrown away, wrinkled and cracked, but pressed open by an unsteady hand. Her brows furrowed and Belladonna straightened. It was all her discarded notes for Sirius. Belladonna locked eyes with Hedwig and she kept unusually still, as though determined to show her –

The tiny owl hopped onto Belladonna's shoulder with excitement and she jerked, startled out of her musings. "Right..." She murmured, looking down at the mussed parchments, spread together, with Sirius' name visible in the splotched inky mess. "...the letter."

¤ Ω ¤

There was no wind to trouble the heat that had settled over that summer night in Privet Drive, but, at a secluded spot in between number three and of number four, a breeze appeared from nowhere. Scrubby little weeds, struggling through the cracks in the paving stones, shivered and withdrew. If any had been awake at the hour they would have then seen the sudden twisting and meshed, obscure body, spread through the path and around towards number four. But no one, not even the small feline laying about on a window across the street, were aware of the body that twisted upwards around the outer walls, to the top floor of the building, and grasped its way against the only caged windows of number four. It coiled over the metal with an abnormal strength that caused the iron to steadily creak and groan...

An annoyed hoot reverberated from inside the room, stilling the shade from breaking the bars. It did not however, stop it from slipping through the cracks and into the hushed room that the body had been trying to break into just moments before.

Amber eyes turned immediately when the creature settled inside, awake, alert, and wariness slipping into the owl's bones while she watched the unknown shade move about the room from the safety of her cage.

The owl having never seen such a creature before waited silently, tension clawed upon her spine while the creature moved about the room in a curious manner – jerking and quivering as if having been left out in the cold for too long – left her quite perturbed. Then, as if something clicked, the creature became just a bit more ridged, just a bit more willowy, and just a bit more solid. The creature loomed tall, taller than anything she had ever seen before, and only waited for a beat before gleaming eyes surged into existence – like magic, dark magic – _it has no face, it has no face!_ \- and flicked its attention towards the owl.

She sent a reproachful glare at this creature, feathers fluttering in warning even as the thing slid forward, a thin limb rising outwards from the rest of its body – _creaking like old wood_ – and reaching towards her.

It didn't flinch when she shrieked, nor when her wings thrashed against the cage, her puffed body meshing against one side of the bars as far as possible from the unknown creature that came closer and closer – _don't let it come closer!_ –

The limb lashed out, straight through the bars – moving right through – _magic!_ – _what is it_ – and swallowed her mid-squawk, straight into its grasp. Inside she was tucked, her bones grinding against each other and her beak clamped shut so tightly that it hurt to breathe. Without the owls notice the creature slowly removed her from the cage, slipping through the bars with little trouble.

Shadows dissolved in a thick inky mess over the quaking owl, her beak still clamped shut and her wings tucked hazardously through the black, tar-like prison. A smile broke through – _just like the eyes_ – from nowhere – baring fangs from the wide slit. The owl was brought closer with a jolt and she thrashed helplessly.

"Now, now, let me see what _you_ have seen..."

Fangs, longer than her own talons – _still jerking, still fighting_ – glided in a macabre gentleness over her white feathers, feeling the soft and sleek plumage that hid away the pale flesh and frantically beating heart of the owl. But she knew it could smell her, could sense her fear too. It enjoyed it, she knew. Then, without any more warning than an elongation of the mouth – _cracking, popping, like the bones of the mice she ate_ – and a deep inhale, fangs pierced straight through the feathers and flesh and muscle of the owl.

On the other side of the room, where a young girl slept, she did not hear the muffled, swallowed, shriek of her owl. Nor did she wake to see the creature and its shadows twisting around the beautiful white pet, slowly closing over the fading amber turning red...

* * *

(1) - the italics are derived from the book; the letters sent to Harry.

I'm so sorry guys! This chapter was meant to be uploaded a week (or at the latest, two) AFTER the first chapter! Not WEEKS later, but things just kinda barrelled, and I had to keep pushing it back further and further. Luckily, I already had it ready, I just needed to check through the outline/draft; tweaked it a bit, and boom. Uploaded. The next chapter is also outlined, I'm hoping to breeze through anything that needs fixing, and have it uploaded after work tomorrow. :)


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